


Daddy

by sixtieshairdo



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: Flashback, M/M, Will finds comfort in Sonny's arms, angst (as always), fatherhood is frightening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 11:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixtieshairdo/pseuds/sixtieshairdo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will's not ready to be a father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daddy

He spends a considerable amount of time just letting his mind wander, nose buried in the dark of Sonny’s neck, inhaling and exhaling as he tries to keep his heartbeat quiet.

 

Sonny’s just as awake as he, but is silent save for the occasional hum of breath that escapes his lips.

 

He shuts his eyes tightly, denying moisture from escaping, but even the shadows fail to staunch the frightened tears back.

 

When Sonny asks what’s wrong, his hands calm but firm around his body, Will shakes his head, pressing himself harder against that comforting chest.

 

Sonny holds him safe as he shakes like a leaf, blown and torn away by the hurricane that crashed around and around, until he finally falls asleep, eyes swollen and breaths ragged; Sonny never letting go, not even for a minute.

 

…

 

When he was young, he recalled his Dad being mostly surprised by him.

 

When he shared a joke, his Dad seemed a little taken aback by the sudden punch of humour his son contained. When he fell down and hurt himself, he remembered the slow motion growing look of horror on his Dad’s face before rushing to him…only to realize that he’s hardier than he looked. There were times at night when he’d fallen asleep by his Dad’s side, the TV blaring the news; he found comfort in the arm that tentatively brushed his hair. He’d wake up for a moment, bleary eyes peering at his Dad’s face, which once again looked almost afraid to have roused him awake.

 

He loved the man. He doesn’t act it much anymore but he still does.

 

He muses darkly at how his Dad never stopped being surprised, or shocked, by him.

 

If Gabi had the baby,  _their_  baby, he’d be a Daddy.

 

He’d be a Daddy  _too_.

 

…

 

A part of him wishes that Sonny would stop touching him like he’s made of silk, like he’d crease or tear easily, like he’s precious or fragile or worth handling with care. When Sonny kisses him, it feels like he’s floating on water and he doesn’t deserve such tenderness.

 

He wants Sonny to drown him, hold him under the waves and inundate his lungs with water, break him apart with his hands. He doesn’t deserve Sonny.

 

Yet the very idea of Sonny with someone else – another man, another woman,  _Brian_  – makes his stomach churn with envy and a fearful amount of anger. He finds himself pressing against Sonny’s skin, warm velvet under his palms, dizziness spreading through his body.

 

Sonny must’ve felt him tense in his arms, and runs his hand carefully through his hair.

 

“Will?”

 

There’s caution in Sonny’s voice, always so patient and loving and thoughtful.

 

He peers up reluctantly at Sonny, blue eyes on brown, apprehensive yet hungry for affection.

 

He sees Sonny’s eyebrows furrow comically before tilting his chin up with his thumb, inspecting his face with quiet consideration.

 

His lips part to inquire but Will interrupts him swiftly, distraction desperate to divert inquisition.

 

“Tell me about your first time.”

 

Revelation spells itself across Sonny’s handsome face and Will exhales relief at his quick cover. If Sonny thinks that he’s upset about Sonny’s past, then all the better. Funnily enough, after blurting out that question, he finds himself honestly wondering about Sonny’s sexual encounters before their night together.

 

“Well, I was seventeen.”

 

Will listens, appreciating Sonny’s honesty and frankness; he likes that his man trusts him enough not to coddle his insecurities.

 

He squirms even closer, paying intimate attention to the little details of Sonny’s face; his quirk of a smile, his insistent tongue that frequently licks at his lips habitually, his expressive eyes. He feels like he could fall in love  _right this moment_  if he lingers too long upon his thoughts, so he shrugs the possibility aside to mull and ponder over when he is ready to tackle the enormity of that emotion better.

 

He lets his hand wander along Sonny’s ribcage, feeling the vibrations of words buzz against his fingertips. Sonny’s so radiant tonight. And to think  _he_  was responsible for that.

 

“So I said to him, because I was nervous as hell but eager as anything, that I’ve never done this before. He was gentle enough that night. So I guess, my first time was more educational than passionate. But that’s important too, you know, learning along the way.”

 

Will gets momentarily distracted by the curve of Sonny’s bottom lip, wet with moisture, still swollen from their kissing earlier. To his own surprise, he finds himself urging Sonny for more details.

 

“So, uh, if you don’t mind me asking, what happened that night?”

 

Sonny blushes, and it’s silly but he wishes he could capture that single expression for himself because it made his toes tingle at the thought that  _he_  caused Sonny’s blood to heat up that perfect face into rosiness. He sees Sonny avoid his intent gaze as though embarrassed by the attention.

 

“Well, he, uh, he undressed me. And kissed me down my body and gave me a blowjob. After I came, he made me lay on my front before, uh, well, he…”

 

Sonny pauses, eyes looking down his chest, breathing growing slightly laboured. Will realizes that his thumb was drawing distracted circles around Sonny’s nipple. He smiles a little when he catches Sonny’s aroused gaze, inching himself even closer to Sonny, nuzzling the space between his neck and jaw. He hears Sonny breathe out a ragged breath and he tugs Sonny’s ear with his teeth.

 

“Go on.”

 

Sonny audibly swallows back a whimper.

 

“He rimmed me. Then he finger fucked me, before fucking me for real.”

 

Will slips his hand under the covers, wrapping his fingers around Sonny’s half-erect cock, slowly pumping it. Sonny twists his neck to capture Will’s lips; teeth and tongues caught up in a passionate wrestle before Will pulls away, their noses barely touching, dilated pupils dark with lust.

 

“And then what?”

 

Sonny blinks, eyes bleary with desire. He bites his lower lip, staring at Will’s mouth.

 

“What?”

 

It takes Will a commendable amount of effort not to dive back into the kiss.

 

“He fucked you for real. And then what?”

 

Sonny pauses, a look of incredulity passing over his features, before he moves suddenly. In an instant, Will finds his hands pinned above his head, Sonny straddling him.

 

“And then nothing.”

 

He doesn't know if Sonny’s lying to him (surely there’s more), but the way Sonny’s lips (and teeth and tongue) latch onto his, and the way Sonny’s body is aligned in just the right angle for just the right amount of friction, Will is more than content to be silenced.

 

…

 

In his early teens, he remembered wanting to rebel.

 

There was fire brimming under his skin, torrents of curse words threatening to pour past his lips, rage never far away. He repulsed his Mother in the same way he adored her. He wanted his Dad to be more present but whenever they were alone together, he’d want nothing more than to leave the room.

 

He felt alone and destructive. He slept uneasily, nightmares of abandonment haunting him.

 

And then one day he learnt that his mother considered aborting him when she found out she was pregnant. She talked about it like it was a positive thing; that she was  _so_  glad she didn’t go through with the procedure because she loved him so much.

 

_Right._

 

He started feeling like he was a mistake. He cried when he was upset and then clawed at his hair to calm himself down.

 

He started looking at boys. He liked how they made him feel. He thinks about the slope of their straight shoulders and the firm of their torsos and the curve of their asses. He shoved those thoughts away when he’s alone because they scare him.

 

_Gay_  was not a word he understood.  _Faggot_ , is what Tad would say.  _Sissy_ , the girls would giggle. He pushed the corners of his mouth into an awkward smile to fit in.

 

His Dad disapproved of a lot of things. He doesn't need one more thing to be disappointed by.

 

He loved the man, he did. He  _does_.

 

But there were days when he felt like he never really had a father figure in his life.

 

The very thought of himself assuming fatherhood makes his stomach churn, much like (he believes) how Gabi must be feeling too.

 

…

 

He clings onto Sonny, knees pressed hard into the creaking bed, his body moving up and down in a broken rhythm, Sonny’s hands holding his ass open as he slides in deeper with each thrust. He is almost blinded by the pleasure and pain, his arms tightly wrapped around Sonny’s neck, their foreheads pressed together, sticky from perspiration, open mouths breathing each other in.

 

He forces his eyes open for an instant, catching Sonny’s unguarded, honest face rapt with ecstasy. He shuts his eyes quickly, afraid that he’d be undone by the sight.

 

He fights back the urge to blurt out something stupid like  _I love you_ and  _please don’t leave me ever_ and _I’m sorry I’m such a fuck up_.

 

When he comes, he throws his head back from the impact of his orgasm, but Sonny holds him together so he doesn’t break apart; he trembles from the aftershocks of the moment before settling limply into Sonny’s arms.

 

He feels nothing but safety.

 

…

 

“Daddy?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“How come we don’t have the same hair?”

 

“That’s a strange question. But a valid concern for a seven year old, I guess.”

 

“Mom has the same hair colour as me. But your hair is so much darker.”

 

“Do you not like your hair?”

 

“I do. But maybe I will like my hair to look like yours too.”

 

“Dude, your hair is awesome. Did someone say something about your hair?”

 

“No. I was just thinking about it. Your hair is nice.”

 

“Well, there are some things we’re just born with. Like the colour of your eyes and the shape of your face. But if it makes you happy, you can change the colour of your hair when you’re older.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Absofruitly.”

 

“Daddy! That’s not a real word!”

 

“It is! You should look it up.”

 

“Wait, then can I change the colour of my eyes too?”

 

“Why would you want to do that? Did someone say something about your eyes?”

 

“Daddy! No. You said we can change the colour of our hair eventhough we’re born with it. So can we change the colour of our eyes too?”

 

“Okay Will. Here’s the thing. You can change a lot of things about yourself on the outside – your hair, your eyes, your teeth, even – but you will always be you on the inside.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“It means, even if one day you have dark hair like me or if you have brown eyes like Grandma Marlena, you’re still the same person inside.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Of course b’gosh.”

 

“Daddy.”

 

“I’m telling you. You should look it up.”

 

…

 

Sonny’s deep breathing is regular and slow.

 

Despite being asleep, his arms are still protective around Will. Will doesn’t bother fighting back the tears; he lets them run down his face and onto Sonny’s giving chest.

 

He mumbles quietly, half-praying that Sonny doesn’t awake, half-hoping that Sonny  _will_.

 

“I fucked up again. I ruined everything. I’m so useless at all that I do, I end up hurting everyone. I can’t stand my mom, my dad hates me, I got Gabi pregnant, and now I’m going to lose you. Your mom was right all along. I’m not good enough for you. I’ll never be good enough. You’re all I ever wanted to be like. You’re all I ever wanted in my life. Stability, confidence, humour…that dark hair.”

 

He momentarily halts at his own words.

 

Quietly, he muffles his sobs against Sonny’s chest, letting the night swallow him whole.


End file.
